The Broken Clock
by Kei Shadou
Summary: A black haired teen is forced to quell his caring nature in the name of safety, and has done things he regrets. But no regrets means no tomorrow, and seeing the next sunrise means he lived. Sometimes, though, he does not repress his kindness and is less mindful of safety. These times are typically a source of regret. However, even a broken clock is right twice a day.


A gangly teen with dark hair slipped through the trees, carefully making sure no one could hear him, nor see him. He paused for a moment, pulling his hood from his head, then unlatching his cloak. He folded it with care and tucked it into his pack. There was no need to disguise his identity anymore. If anyone had followed him this far, well, they wouldn't be following much longer.

The teen effortlessly scaled one of the trees, the only indicator that it was the right one the slight wear of the bark and scuff marks where his climbing had removed bits and pieces of the outer layer. He tugged on an old rope, undoing the knot at the other end. Climbing back down halfway, he found the grip-knot. Putting both hands above it, he jumped and free-fell for a moment before the rope pulled taut. He landed neatly in another tree, his feet easily gripping the ever-familiar ancient wood. He tied the rope back where it was before and jumped down to a slightly lower branch.

A carved panel was embedded into the trunk of the tree and he pressed parts of it in, deactivating several of his traps. He wasted no time, using another rope to get to the ground. The boy took off at a dead sprint. Only five minutes till the traps that were out of commission were set again, and he needed to cover most of a mile before that happened or he was dead meat.

The boy hated that he needed all these various traps, but none could know he lived. Humans were a dying race, hunted by the other races mercilessly. The kingdom of Man was ever-shrinking, and still they fought to their dying breaths for every scrap they might keep. It was kinda sad, really, but the teen had other things to worry about. Such as keeping his bit of the Uncharted Lands safe, and keeping himself and his mother fed.

His mother was physician, and a good one. However, he could see it wearing on her to stay away from the wounded of any race for fear of her life. Day after day, he brought whoever he could save to her for healing, but day after day she wanted to do more for everyone she could reach.

He hated the extreme measure of caution too, but he'd never admit it out loud. His father had been drafted into the army when they still lived inside Esset's borders. Not a week later, a messenger hawk informed them that he'd run off, and was presumed dead. His mother was broken, and had thrown herself into work to try to drown out her pain. He was only four summers old at the time, but he'd promised that he'd take care of her. He had to stay strong.

He had to.

Sometime during his fifth summer, his mom was injured, loosing her left arm for good. They'd had to cut it off to save her. The instant she was well enough to run, they stole away in the night, dodging the border patrols and disappearing into the Uncharted Lands - a forest so ancient and forbidding, not even the elves dared enter. The place had a reputation for messing with the senses of all who entered, but to him it felt like coming home. The place seemed to call to him, and though his mother said the place made her uneasy, no one could argue that it was safer than their last home.

…She wouldn't speak to him, but at least she still lived. Hell, she hated him, screaming and raving at him every time he showed while she was awake. So he only showed up to bring injured to her clinic/cave and to leave food. If she slept when he arrived, he tucked her in and took her glasses of for her. She only slept when she was too exhausted to move anymore. If she was up, he was careful to remain a ghost. A presence that she could feel but never see nor hear.

The teen made it to the other end of the trap field with time to spare, and stopped, panting lightly. He glanced around, seeing through the glamor on the storage shed without trouble. He was the one who'd established it after all. He never understood why humans limited themselves to their technology. They were perfectly capable of it, but had decided that their far-advanced technology was what separated them from the 'brutish' other races and refused to bother.

He was careful to avoid using any trick too often. There was no way he was letting anyone get close enough to his burrow to hurt his mother, and using only technology or only trollish magic or elvish magic and traps any other singular technique was a good way to get killed. No one closed-minded enough to learn only their own techniques could get through. Hell, even one well-versed in more than one would inevitably die in his vast field of traps. It was the way it was designed, after all. One wrong step and that's it.

The teen finished putting away his cloak and rucksack, and putting what he'd scavenged and stolen in their places. The true purpose of today's foray winked crimson from a shelf. A blood garnet, perfectly cut. It was about time his mother got her arm back. Making sure the glamor was firmly in place the boy ghosted off in a different direction. Leaving the area was always so much easier than getting in, and he heard metal clashing in the distance. Looks like mother's arm would have to wait. He had some new patients for the clinic.

He thumbed the stolen magical device that he used to transport people to the clinic. It made them weigh a fraction of what they actually did for an hour or so, then he could easily drag them back. The sled track was charmed to roast anyone that wasn't him that touched it, so it was thankfully not a risk to have. He reached the edge of the Dark Forest and dropped to the ground.

Attempting to travel by branch hopping like he did in his forest would be a mistake. The smaller, more springy trees would snap under the impact, or simply bend so far he'd fall. So he ran instead. Only a few minutes later, he came upon the sight of the skirmish. An elvish arrow let him know which tribes clashed. It appeared the elves had ambushed the two trolls laying injured on the ground, but left them to die from their wounds to prevent war. The boy scaled a tree to survey the situation more easily, cling to the trunk so he didn't fall.

The smaller one had four arms and six eyes and was completely out. The bigger had a more standard number of limbs and eyes and was groaning in pain, still conscious despite being more heavily wounded. As the boy watched, the larger attempted to stand and go to the smaller. He got halfway to his feet then fell, clutching a large slash across his lower abdomen and causing new blood to gush out. The boy knew he'd never get them to the clinic in time.

He pushed hard off the tree to clear the branches, causing it so sway. Landing lightly, he coughed softly to get the big one's attention. His head snapped towards the teen, and the troll winced from the pain the movement caused. The boy ignored the wary stare for the most part, pushing forward a sock as an offering of peace. The large troll snorted, but winced and nodded slowly. He knew he needed help, or both he and his four armed friend would die.

—

The teen unclipped a small bag that smelled of magic and medicine from his waist. He removed a towel that shouldn't have been able to fit from the pouch and offered it to Arrrgh.

 **"** **Press to wound."** The teen grunted out in trollish. Arrrgh was a little surprised to hear his native tongue from the lanky human whelp. Was it a changeling or something? Either way he couldn't refuse the help so he did as he was told. The towel flashed with the icy heat of healing magic and his wound closed. The towel quickly turned to ash, but the gash in his stomach was gone, and with Arrrgh no longer in danger of bleeding out, the teen moved to Blinky. He growled lowly in the back of his throat and the whelp tensed and whined but didn't back away from his friend's prone form. Arrrgh didn't push it. He may no longer be in danger of dying tonight, but Blinky was still injured and he didn't know the first thing of medicine.

"Shit!" The way the whelp spat the word made its vulgarity clear. He sprung into motion bandaging the four armed troll, and dumped the contents of a vial down his gullet. The whelp forced it to be swallowed by blocking his nose and rubbing his throat. Instantly Blinky's breathing evened out. The whelp wiped his brow and backed away, allowing Arrrgh to get close. Blinky coughed weakly and slowly opened his eye.

—

The dark haired teen ignored the whispers from the pair behind him to glance at the horizon. The first stars had started to wink out to the oncoming dawn. He did not want to be caught out after morning, and the two trolls would die should they be caught out late. A sunbeam would do them in.

It seemed like dawn was forever away with the moon already gone for the night, and the stars invisible until the next evening. Everything was pitch dark, and the night seemed as if it'd last forever. The teen knew better.

 **"** **Come."** He ordered. The smaller one was startled by his voice. **"Dawn coming."** He didn't wait for an answer, walking off into the trees. He knew they were fine to walk, and set a pace they could keep up with.

 **"** **Excuse me, but where are you taking us?"** The smaller one asked. The teen didn't see a need to answer. The small one spoke again, a little louder, asking the same question. He was again ignored. The teen held up his hand to get them to stop and listened. No unnatural sounds presented themselves. He scaled a tree, and if it wasn't shaking like a leaf in a maelstrom, no one would be able to tell there was anything unusual happening. He held himself as high as he could for a few seconds, scanning for the familiar overgrown trees marking the edge of the Elvish territory pine forests. He leapt down again, startling both trolls.

 **"** **This way."** He said in leu of apology for the scare. He set off again, glancing to the east every few minutes. It was dangerously close to dawn when they finally reached the barrier.

 **"** **E-excuse me, but are you taking us in there? You do know that that is the-"**

He cut the troll off.

 **"** **The Dark Forest? Yes. Dawn approaching, now come on."** The teen forged ahead into the ancient trees, the two trolls trailing behind much more apprehensively. He snorted, but allowed their nerves to slow his pace as not to loose them. The sun wouldn't pierce through to the forest floor until well into the day. It wasn't much further to the dugout burrow he was thinking of either. He had them scattered all over for various purposes. He would ditch them there and get some sleep in the tree platform house nearby. It was burrow meant for injured anyways, and he could monitor if something happened from the tree lodge easily. It was a good enough plan for now.


End file.
